


Rightfully mine

by crispierchip



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anal Sex, Dirty Talk, Dubious Consent, Humiliation, Knotting, M/M, Praise Kink, Rough Sex, Verbal Humiliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-11
Updated: 2016-12-11
Packaged: 2018-09-07 23:13:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8820091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crispierchip/pseuds/crispierchip
Summary: Dean tries hard to be a good alpha.





	

**Author's Note:**

> written for this prompt: Dean is Sam's Alpha and has known it since he first held newborn Sam. He is incredibly protective/loving/playful with his omega just as he is still Sam's big brother on top of being his mate. Sam is only fourteen and is still very small so despite his tits coming in and starting to produce slick, Dean won't knot him yet. They fuck and mess around but Dean always pulls away before his knot forms. As a result Sam's omega ass has stayed virgin tight without a knot to open it up through puberty. Then someone- at school or a hunter or whatever, up to author- scents Sam and when the boy comes back to Dean he's absolutely reaking of the other Alpha. This puts Dean into an Alpha rage and he claims his omega, pushing his giant knot into Sam's too small hole. Description on how small and impossible the fit is but Dean makes it go in would be great. Dub con with Sam freaking out and crying/panicking at getting knotted for the first time and how much it hurts to get his hole broken in but Dean soothing and making him feel good once it passes. Sam having tiny omega cock and balls/tits that Dean sucks on. Pregnancy/breeding kink are all good too. Anything goes! 
> 
> Thank you!

Dean tries hard to be a good alpha. He brings Sammy flowers and he takes him to the movies at least once a week. He works all the overtime he can get so Sammy won’t miss out on anything like Dean did. 

More than that, he’s been  _ patient _ , he’s been so incredibly patient it frustrates him to his very core. But Sammy is sixteen, it wouldn’t do for Dean to break him in this young, would probably hurt too much, to knot him while his body is still developing. 

Which is why Dean doesn’t understand what’s happening when Sam comes home  _ reeking  _ one afternoon, reeking of alpha - another alpha. Dean’s just back from a hard day’s work, and he was looking forward to his omega coming home, to hugging Sam, holding him close, but he can’t, not when - not when Sammy keeps giving that scent off. 

“Dean,” Sammy says, once he sees him, and maybe there’s something in Dean’s look, maybe on his face, because Sammy’s eyes instantly drop to the ground, shoulders slumping. “I - I swear, it was - I didn’t,” he stutters, and Sammy so rarely stumbles over his words that in any moment it would give Dean pause. As it is, now, Dean is fuming, can feel his blood start to boil in his veins, heart racing because someone dared touch what is rightfully his. 

“It wasn’t my fault,” Sammy finishes weakly, and his voice shakes, just a little. Dean hears it but he can’t -

“You let him  _ scent  _ you?” he spits out, hurt, and angry, and everything in between. 

Sam flinches, taking a step back. That cuts deeper than any rank stench Dean could smell, but the scariest part is Dean can’t bring himself to care much right now. “I - I tried to stop him,” Sam argues, quiet. 

“I - ” Dean starts, cuts himself off because he knows he’s going to regret whatever ends up coming out of his mouth. Then he goes right ahead and says, “After everything I do for you, this - this is what you do?” 

Sam glances at him then, hurt flashing over his face in the split second he allows his eyes to meet Dean’s. “I swear,” he starts, “I swear I did everything I - I punched him, after, I - ” Sammy stops, abruptly. “I’m sorry,” he says. 

Something starts to soften inside Dean at that, but it’s too little to break through the fog in his mind. He’s shaking now, he realizes absently, hands curled into fists at his sides. “I just - I try so hard, to be a good mate to you, and you let some random apha rub off on you?” he asks, voice all low and rough,  _ alpha _ , like he’d never dream of using on Sam. 

Sam cowers away from it, is biologically made to do so, and presents his neck to Dean, as a way of appeasing him. 

For some reason, it has the exact opposite effect on Dean, something inside coiling so tight it’s about to snap. Dean growls at him, can’t help it, and that’s when he starts to realize what’s happening. He takes a step back while he still can, and turns away from Sammy so he won’t have to smell that - that  _ thing  _ anymore. “Sammy,” he says, close as he can to his regular voice. “You gotta go. Now.”

Sam is quiet for a moment, and then Dean can smell him coming closer, and his skin crawls. 

“Sammy,” he growls. “Now.”

“Dean, what - ” Sammy starts, and then, as if it’s just dawning on him, “You’re in rage.”

Dean finds it in him to nod, hands itching to get closer to Sam, to just  _ take  _ him, get this over him. 

“Let me help,” Sam says, like this is not bad enough already. 

“You can’t help,” Dean says, more abrupt than he’d meant to be. He can’t see it, he’s still looking away, but he imagines the way it makes Sammy flinch. Part of him kind of likes it, too, in a serves-him-well kind of way. 

Dean feels sick with himself. 

“This is my fault, let me help,” Sammy insists.

“It’s not your fault,” Dean argues, but even to his own ears, it’s weak. 

“Dean,” Sammy just says, unrelenting, “Let me help.” He’s so painfully sincere about it, too, Dean can’t even bear to look at him. 

Dean - he can only take so much. “I - it won’t be - gentle.” 

Sam nods, too quickly. “I know,” he says, putting on as brave a face as a sixteen year old car. 

Dean loves him so much it hurts, sometimes, but all he can feel right now is angers. 

He closes the space between them and kisses Sammy, hard, teeth scraping over lips and tongue plunging into his mouth. Sammy makes noises into the kiss, high pitched and surprised, because Dean usually isn’t this rough with him, but Dean doesn’t pay them much mind. He curls his hands under Sam’s thighs and hoists him up, lets him wrap his legs around Dean’s waist. 

He starts walking towards the bedroom but then thinks better of it. Thinks about their bed that they share and how the covers smell like them, and he doesn’t want to taint that, not with the stench that’s coming off Sammy right now nor with his own rage.

Dean heads to the couch instead, dumps Sammy on it and lays on top of him, buries his face in Sammy’s neck, where his scent is fresh and clean, free of that other alpha. He thinks Sammy maybe says something or asks something, but he can’t deal with that right now, so he kisses him instead. Fists his hands in his shirt and rips it off him, throws it aside so he can  _ burn  _ it later, get rid of the stink. 

Dean thinks that might be it, for one glorious moment, but then he realizes he can still smell the alpha on Sam, smell him on his skin, like Sam is some filthy slut who just gives it up to anyone. “Fuck, it just - it won’t come off,” Dean growls, hips grinding down between Sammy’s legs. 

Sammy makes a sound, high in his throat, like a whine, legs falling open further. He pushes up against Dean, tiny cock probably starting to harden in his jeans. 

Dean thinks that’s just - it’s greedy, and it deepens the pit inside him, makes him angrier. “Shh,” he says, instead of  _ shut up and stop moving _ , but even that comes out rough. “Where did he touch you?” he asks. 

Sammy cowers away from Dean, hips stilling beneath him. He wraps his bony arms arms around himself like he’s trying to cover up. Something in Dean aches seeing him like this but another part revels in it. Dean tries to be good, though, and he noses Sam’s jawline, tries to tell him it’s okay without actually uttering the words. 

“Tell me,” he says instead, as sweetly as he can bear. 

Sam looks at him for a moment before quickly ducking away, but he says, “He grabbed my arms, here.”

Dean swallows down his growl and pushes his nose into Sam’s right arm. He tries to take a breath and gags on it. “Jesus,” he chokes out, pushing his nose back into the calming familiarity of Sam’s neck. “You reek,” he says. 

Sam swallows, Dean can make it out next to his ear, and doesn’t say anything. As he should, a part of Dean thinks, the nastier part, the one that’s got him holding Sammy down right now, spitting filth and degradation at him. 

“You should be happy I even want to be in the same room as you,” he says. He pushes his hips down again, erection straining against his jeans, and Sam jumps, knees jabbing at Dean’s ribs. Dean growls, something deep and dark, and he digs his fingers into Sam’s thighs, pushes them open. “Keep them there,” he says. 

Sammy makes another one of those sounds, like a whine, and Dean drinks it in. He pushes and pulls at Sammy’s legs until he can rock against his cunt, and Sammy goes, plain and easy, the way it’s meant to be. Every once in a while he’ll breathe out and it will be watery, but Dean can smell him start to get wet, so he doesn’t pay it any mind. 

Eventually, Dean tires of grinding into Sam through their clothes like a couple of teenagers and starts to unbutton his jeans. His fingers are rough and jabbing and still have grease stains on them from the garage, but Sam doesn’t protest. He lets Dean throw his legs over his shoulder and pull his pants off, and he lets out a long, shuddery breath once Dean’s denim clad erection rubs against his slick hole. 

“You like that, don’t you,” Dean starts, out of nowhere, the words spilling out of his mouth on their own accord. “Me throwing you around, having my way with you.” When Sam doesn’t say anything, doesn’t even look at Dean, Dean pinches his thigh. “Tell me.”

“I like it,” he says, quiet. He’s flushed this deep red, the way he gets whenever he’s embarrassed, and Dean likes that. 

“You like being my bitch. I bet you’d like it the same whoever it was. Doesn’t even have to be me,” Dean goes on. 

“No.” Sammy shakes his head, but it’s weak. Dean’s his alpha, after all, Sam probably doesn’t want to piss him off further. 

“No?” Dean chuckles. He swipes two fingers over Sam’s hole, and they come away wet. Sam’s breath hitches, his legs twitching where they’re held open by Dean’s hips. “Fuck, I don’t even believe you,” Dean goes on, cruel. Something passes over Sam’s face, hurt, most certainly, and Dean feels bad, honestly bad for doing that to him, but at the same time, he can’t stop. He swears he’ll apologize later but for now his blood boils, his stomach aches; he needs this. 

“How do you expect me to think you’re a good omega when you just turn into slut for everyone,” Dean goes on, relentless. He rubs his fingers over Sammy’s hole, pressing against the tightness but not pushing inside. Sammy buckles, away or closer, Dean can’t tell, but he’s leaking slick all over Dean’s fingers, hungry for it. 

Sammy keeps making noises underneath him, tiny hitching breaths that catch in his throat every time he tries to breathe in. He opens his mouth a couple of times like he wants to say something, only nothing comes out, and then third time Dean’s had enough. 

“What is it, sweetheart, come on,” he coaxes, just letting the tips of two fingers breach Sammy’s hole.

“Alpha,” Sam breathes out, long and shuddery, which is enough to make Dean groan, embarrassingly. Sam almost never calls him that, is the thing, and Dean would never dream of asking him too just because he's so ashamed of how much he wants to hear it. Now, though, Sam looks almost helpless with it, face flushed and legs shaking, all for Dean.  

And as if that wasn’t enough, Sam follows it up with, “Please,” and Dean is just gone there, wants to ruin him until there’s nothing left. 

“Yeah,” Dean mumbles, mostly to himself. “Yeah, baby, I got you,” he says, and it’s true. He can feel the heat inside him simmer but it’s different now, not quite as vicious as before. It makes him almost gentle when he pushes two dry fingers into Sammy’s hole, where he’s wet but so incredibly tight. 

Sam breathes out, this long, shaky thing, and almost immediately relaxes back against the cushions, laying there as if his strings have been cut. “Yeah, that’s it, baby,” Dean murmurs. He leans down and kisses Sammy for the second time, just a peck on the lips, as much as he can bear. “Let me take care of you,” he mumbles into his neck, and lays kisses there, too.

Dean fingers him for a few minutes, working him open, but after a while he runs out of patience.

“Get on your knees,” he murmurs, pulling his fingers out. Sammy hurries to comply, hurries to please him, so much that he stumbles over his own feet, an awkward mess of limbs. Dean reaches out to steady him, gently helps him kneel in front of the couch, arms resting on the cushions. 

“There you go,” he says, moving to kneel behind him. He takes his dick in hand starts to inch closer, guiding himself into Sammy’s hole. 

Sammy jumps at the first touch of Dean’s dick on his hole, and Dean reaches out and curls a calming hand around his side, right over his ribs. He caresses the skin there, murmurs, “You got it, you’re good,” at Sammy and tells him to take his time, even though this -  _ thing  _ \- inside Dean is telling him to plunge in and just  _ take _ .

“You good?” he asks after a few seconds, and Sammy nods. Dean tries again, and this time Sammy keeps still, lets Dean’s dick breach him and press inside. 

They’ve done this part before, but Dean always gasps at the feeling of Sam’s hole around him, the tight grip it’s got on him. It’s a surprise, always, knocks his breath right out of him. He has to pause for a few seconds, give them both time to adjust, and then he pulls out, listens for the wet sound Sammy’s hole makes as it tries to close back up before pushing in again, shallow.

It’s one of Dean’s favorite things about this, even though he’d never admit it in his right mind. He does it again, and this time Sammy whines, either from impatience or embarrassment, Dean doesn’t know, but he likes to think it’s the latter. 

He shushes Sammy and keeps going, going until he’s bored, basically, and then he pushes in deeper, feeling as Sammy’s body spreads open for him. Sammy’s never taken Dean all the way before, but Dean tries for that now. He pushes until there’s about two inches of his dick left and then he puts his hands on Sammy’s sides, holds him in place as he thrusts in the rest of the way. 

Sammy whimpers but doesn’t try to move away, just spreads his legs, so desperate to please. Part of Dean loves that, another part hates it. It shouldn't be like that, he thinks, not with them, Dean is supposed to be better than this, but the argument is weak, rage-fogged. 

“There you go, I’m all the way in,” Dean says, once his balls come to rest against Sammy’s ass. 

Sammy lets out a long breath beneath him, almost entirely relief, Dean can tell, and starts to relax around him, muscles coming loose now that they know they won’t have to stretch any further. 

“Such a good omega for me,” Dean says, an instinct, but it works, because Sammy shudders, hard enough that Dean can feel it all the way to his dick. “You like that, huh? Like being good for me? A good, tight hole for me to fuck,” he goes on, senseless. 

Sam is shaking near constantly now, and when Dean reaches around him, he finds him hard, tiny cock leaking a mess all over the floor, the carpet. “Filthy slut,” he spits out, and it makes Sammy clench down on him, rhythmically, like he’s trying to milk him. “That’s good, you’re good,” Dean praises. 

He lets go of Sammy’s dick so he can grab his hips again, start to move. Sammy whines but Dean doesn’t pay him any mind. He starts to thrust, pulling out all the way before pushing back in to the hilt, knocking Sammy's breath out of him each time. He’s gentle at first, slow, but picks up speed as he goes, until he’s thrusting hard enough that Sammy's knees skid on the carpet, probably giving him rug burn. 

Dean is distantly aware that he’s being too rough, that this is probably too much for Sammy, but he can’t stop, not now. He can feel his knot start to swell, catching on Sammy’s rim every time he pulls out. Sammy shakes with it, tiny noises falling from his lips, but he’s good about keeping still. 

Dean keeps going until his knot grown too big, and even then, he only stops because Sammy’s hole clamps down on him, won’t let him pull out. “Sammy, come on,” he tries, because it’s too soon for him, he needs more. “Let me, just relax.” The words are tight, spoken from between his teeth, probably sound angry. 

Sammy whines, hole pulsing around Dean’s dick. “I - I can’t, it’s - it’s too big, I can’t, I’m sorry,” he gets out, and the words are quiet, deflated. 

Dean holds back a sigh. He takes two fingers and starts to rub them over Sammy's rim instead, gentle, coaxing it open for his knot to pop back out. “Only a couple of more times, I promise,” he says. 

Sammy makes a sound, watery, and Dean keeps rubbing at him, reaches out to play with his dick a little. Sam seems to like that, he pushes into it, and it works, eventually; Dean’s knot pops back out with a filthy fucking sound. Sammy whimpers through it, but he lets Dean more in and out of him, just a couple of times, like he promised, before pushing all the way in and stilling. 

“There you go, that wasn’t too bad,” Dean murmurs after. He runs a hand down Sammy’s side and moves the other to his cock, jerking him off. “Now you just hold me, baby, just hold me.”

Sammy nods, hips twitching as Dean strokes him off. It doesn’t take much; omegas are meant to come without any manual stimulation after all, not that Dean is going to begrudge Sammy that. Sam grows impossibly tight around Dean as he comes, and that does it for Dean, too, has him spilling his seed inside Sammy’s hole. 

Sam collapses against the couch afterwards, and Dean leans over him, holds him to his chest. He’s starting to come down, now, the tangled mess inside him easing, and he feels like he needs this, this closeness. He needs to breathe Sammy in, right now, so he does, and the smell from before doesn’t feel quite so intruding any more. 

Dean also feels like he should apologize, for this. Sammy’s first time taking a knot shouldn't have been like this, this violent thing, his alpha rage-crazed and aching for relief. It should have been sweet, gentle, Dean taking his time with him. Instead, Sammy got this - whatever  _ this  _ was. Terrible, for one. Hurtful, for another. 

Still, Sammy came home reeking of another alpha, he did that to Dean. Dean couldn't just be expected to sit there and take it. He had to - he had to  _ do  _ something about it, take back what is his. 

Sammy shudders beneath him, breath going out of him in one long exhale. Dean hugs him tighter to his chest, noses the space behind his ear. “Shh,” he says, gentle, now. “We’re good.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!! Let me know what you thought :))


End file.
